Prime Suspect Read online

Gulping staccato breaths of air, she nodded and made a visible effort to get control of herself. “I can’t help but wonder. Was I a constant reminder of the brutality she suffered? When she looked at me, did she see the man who attacked her?”

  “Stop that.” Caleb gave her hand a shake. “Of course not. Your mother loved you, you know that. You told Fairmont that she was the best mom a girl could have. If she thought of you only as a result of that attack, she couldn’t have loved you deeply enough to be that great mom, could she?”

  A flicker of hope showed in the eyes she raised to his. “No.” A sniff. “No, she couldn’t. She did love me.”

  “Of course she did. I’ll venture to say you were the person she loved most in her life. Don’t you think?”

  A trembling smile appeared in the midst of the shadows that hid most of her face. “She used to tell me I was the best blessing God ever gave her.” A shuddering breath. “How could that be true, when she had to go through such a horrible experience to have me?”

  “I know the answer to that.” He glanced away from the road at her. “Mind if I quote a little Scripture?”

  “Okay.” She sounded cautious.

  “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose. Paul wrote that to the church in Rome.”

  He could almost hear her mind turning the Scripture over in the short silence that followed.

  Finally she shook her head. “I don’t get it. Mama loved God, but she wasn’t called to any purpose. She wasn’t a preacher or a missionary or anything.”

  Caleb smiled. She might have been him a few years ago, questioning God’s plan for his life. “God has a plan for everyone. Even when bad things happen, He’ll turn it into something good for us. Maybe part of His plan for your mom was to be your mother. Not that He wanted her to suffer, but when she did He turned that suffering into something good.” He spoke softly. “I’ll bet she thought of you as something good that God gave her.”

  The tremble in her lip disappeared, and a real smile broke free. “Thank you for that.” She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Your faith is really strong, isn’t it?”

  Caleb kept his eyes forward. Yesterday morning he would have agreed. But tonight doubts twisted his gut into knots, and his spirit was troubled by a single thought: if he couldn’t even be sure of hearing God’s voice over his own, apparently his faith wasn’t as strong as he thought.

  * * *

  Darcie tossed fitfully in bed that night. A dozen times she replayed the meeting with Mr. Fairmont, or Uncle Richard as he wanted to be called. She reexamined every word and writhed on the mattress at the thought of her mother being hurt. In her mind’s eye she saw Mama, young and beautiful, crouched on the floor in a spare bedroom at the Fairmont mansion, sobbing at the violence just done to her. Just yesterday morning she had sat in the kitchen of that same house polishing silver, unaware that she had come into being in the midst of a savage attack in one of the upstairs rooms. Her thrashing legs became entangled in the sheets. Percy, grumbling, moved to the far edge of the bed to get away from her.

  Uncle Richard. His face loomed in the darkness of the bedroom. If her father had lived, he would have looked like Uncle Richard. Though certainly she wouldn’t have glimpsed compassion in those dark eyes. She wouldn’t have seen kindness, as she had in the eyes of her uncle.

  Yet there had also been something disturbing, something she could not identify. When he spoke of Uncle Kenneth as a wasp to be watched, the tension in his face had been nearly palpable. And when he made her promise to let him know if Kenneth contacted her, she’d detected a sense of urgency that made her squirm again, hours later and miles away from the meeting. Was he simply a protective uncle worried that his newly acknowledged niece would be hurt by the same man who had betrayed him? Or was there something more?

  And what was behind the request to make their relationship public?

  Maybe he really does want to claim me because he never had a child of his own. He wants to know that the Fairmonts won’t die out when he is gone, but will live on in another generation.

  Her eyes flew open as another thought occurred to her.

  Maybe he wants an heir.

  The idea snatched her breath. The Fairmonts were among the wealthiest people in the state of Georgia. Who knew how much Fairmont Industries was worth? He probably had other assets as well, investments and so on. Rich people did. And then there was the family estate.

  Could I ever live in that house, knowing my mother had been brutalized there?

  Nausea returned at the thought. No, she’d sell it, or maybe turn it into a historical site.

  What am I thinking?

  A guilty flush erupted over her whole body when she realized the turn her thoughts had taken. Her mother had spent her whole life sheltering Darcie from knowing the harsh reality behind her conception, and here she was calmly planning what she would do if she inherited Fairmont Estate. Maybe she was more like Uncle Kenneth than she thought. The idea made her sick with shame.

  The last time she looked at the clock on the nightstand, the display read 4:27 a.m.

  I ought to just go ahead and get up. Sleep isn’t going to happen tonight.

  That was the last thing she remembered before she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  Bang bang bang.

  The sound reverberated from some other part of the house. Darcie sat straight up in bed, heart thudding in her chest. What was it? A break-in? Her pulse went from sleepy to panicky in the span of a few seconds. Had the people who’d attacked her and chased her and Caleb found her?

  Outside, the sun had risen, and it spilled early morning light through the window into the comfortable bedroom. The clock read 6:54 a.m. On the mattress beside her, Percy leaped up and ran to the edge of the bed, yapping like crazy.

  “Percy, shhh!” Straining her ears, she heard the sound of voices below. Brent’s deep tone, then another male voice, then a third. She couldn’t make out the words, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door closing. Were those footsteps on the hardwood entry hall?

  A soft rap on her door startled her. She jumped as the door opened and then blew out a breath when Lauren’s face appeared.

  But she only relaxed for a second, because her friend wore a grave expression. “Darcie, you need to get dressed. There’s someone here to see you.”

  A list of possible visitors flashed through her brain. Caleb? No, Lauren wouldn’t look so solemn. Uncle Richard, maybe?

  “Who is it?” she asked as she slid out of bed and reached for her duffel bag and clean clothes.

  Lauren replied in an unhappy tone. “It’s the police. Something terrible has happened, and they want to talk to you.”

  * * *

  “We seem to be seeing a lot of each other in the past few days, Ms. Wiley.” Detective Samuels had seated himself in one of Lauren’s comfortable living room chairs. Two patrolmen stood sentinel behind him, their expressions hard as cement.

  Perched on the edge of a couch cushion facing the detective, Darcie eyed him with caution. Given the choice she wouldn’t spend any more time with this man than she had to. In fact, she’d give a great deal to never see him again. Unfortunately, the choice was not hers to make.

  “We certainly are.” She kept her voice clear of emotion, acutely aware that every word she uttered would be weighed and examined.

  He waited for a moment, watching her with an expectant air.

  What are you doing here at seven o’clock in the morning? The question nearly burst from her lips, but she held it back. Judging by his relaxed but alert posture, Samuels intended to steer this conversation at his own pace. The wisest course was to let him.

  After an uncomfortable moment, he leaned back and rested his a
rms along the cushioned arms of the chair. “I need to ask you a few questions about your activities last night.”

  She glanced sideways at the empty doorway. Were Brent and Lauren hovering nearby, listening? If only they’d been allowed to stay, she might have drawn courage from their presence. But the detective had insisted on speaking with her alone, so they’d taken Percy and left the room. “I was here most of the evening.”

  Samuels leaped on the word like a cat on a bird. “Most?”

  “I left here at seven-thirty for a meeting and got back a little after nine.”

  “A meeting with whom?”

  Red flags waved in her mind’s eye. Would it look suspicious to say she’d met with the man who owned the property on which she had found Lewis’s body? Best to answer with prudence.

  “It was a personal matter.”

  He stroked his chin with a finger. “Now I wonder about that. I wonder a lot. What personal business did you have with Richard Fairmont?”

  The stiffness wilted from Darcie’s shoulders. He knew she’d visited Uncle Richard. Was he having her followed?

  “I—” She swallowed. Choose the words carefully. “I was—”

  A sound interrupted from the direction of the entry hall. The front door opened. Heads turned toward the doorway to the living room as Caleb burst into sight, chest heaving as though he’d run there. The eyes he fixed on Darcie were filled with emotion.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Fingers splayed, he held his hands toward her in a halting gesture. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

  Bewildered, Darcie shook her head. “Sorry about what? Figure what out?”

  Caleb’s gaze jerked toward Detective Samuels. “You haven’t told her?”

  “I was about to.”

  Elbows planted on the arms of the chair, he intertwined his fingers and rested his hands in his lap. If he’d watched her closely a moment before, his gaze now could only be described as intense.

  “Richard Fairmont was murdered in his office last night.” His smile became brittle. “It seems, Ms. Wiley, that you were the last person to see him alive.”

  THIRTEEN

  A shocked silence met Samuels’s announcement. Caleb closed his eyes against the horror carved into Darcie’s face.

  Samuels had showed up at his house at six-thirty that morning, demanding to know where Darcie was. When he told Caleb the reason, what could he do? He’d had no choice but to tell the detective what he wanted to know. Though Caleb had gotten dressed in a hurry and covered the distance between his house and Brent’s at breakneck speed, Samuels beat him.

  If only I’d gotten here before them, I could have prepared her. Not that anything could ready her to hear of the death of the uncle she’d just discovered.

  But the worst was yet to come.

  Ignoring the detective, he crossed the room and lowered himself to the cushion beside her. The violent trembling of her body when he placed his arm across her shoulders stirred up such a fierce sense of protection that his jaws clenched tight.

  “I don’t understand.” Her voice was high, tight, like a little girl struggling not to cry. “I just saw him. How could he be...dead? Who could have killed him?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out.” Samuels rested one leg across the other, his hands looped around his knee.

  “Here?” She drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know anything. How could I? He was fine when I left him.”

  “Was he?” His expression became almost fierce. “Can you prove that?”

  The shivering stopped and her shoulders stiffened. “Surely you don’t think I killed him? I would never—I couldn’t—” Her head jerked toward Caleb. “You were there. Tell them.”

  Miserable, Caleb scrubbed a hand across his mouth. Why, oh why had he agreed to leave that office?

  He squeezed her arm as he delivered the blow. “Darcie, I can’t.”

  “What?” Alarm crept into her voice. “What do you mean?”

  He spoke softly, gripping her shoulder as though that would somehow soften the blow. “I never saw Fairmont again after I left his office. The two of you were in there alone, and then you came out. He didn’t.”

  Horror dawned on her face. With a lurch, she wrenched away from his hand and vaulted off the couch. The look of betrayal she turned on him shot straight through his ribs and found its mark deep in his heart.

  * * *

  A loud buzzing in Darcie’s ears drowned out her thoughts. Her chest heaved with the attempt to catch an elusive breath. When the room began to spin, she doubled over, hands resting on her knees for support.

  “Lauren!”

  Caleb’s shout echoed in the room, and a moment later Lauren’s gentle arms were around her, guiding her back to the couch. When she sank onto the cushions, Lauren continued to hold her close.

  “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.” Her friend’s soft croon seeped past the buzzing. “Darcie, listen to me. You can handle this. Calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong, and we will prove it.”

  She forced herself to listen to the calming voice, to draw a long, slow breath into her lungs. Then another.

  Richard Fairmont dead. Just last night he had asked her to call him Uncle Richard, asked if he could claim her publicly as his niece.

  It’s not fair!

  Her hands balled into fists, and she wanted to beat them against something. Her legs. The couch arm. Caleb. She looked up and spied him standing over her, watching with a helpless expression. Anger flared to life so vividly she had to struggle to stop from flying at him. He’d promised to help her, to keep her safe. Liar!

  That’s not fair. He’s only telling the truth.

  She wanted to ignore the whisper of reason, but she couldn’t. The scene last night replayed in her mind. She’d said goodbye to Uncle Richard. What were his last words to her, the last ones she would ever hear him utter? I’m glad things are out in the open between us. The memory wrenched her heart. She’d left, while he had remained beside the little table. Waiting outside the office, Caleb could not possibly have seen him.

  He could have lied for me, she thought sullenly.

  But she knew the thought would never occur to the man his friends called Preacher Man. Dishonesty was not in his nature.

  This wasn’t Caleb’s fault. He’d done what he could for her. One look at the misery in his face proved that.

  Something relaxed inside her. A fist of anxiety still gripped her insides and no doubt would continue to do so until this whole nightmare was behind her. But at least she wasn’t going through it alone. With a gentle pressure on Lauren’s hands, she smiled both her gratitude and the message that she had regained at least a modicum of control. She couldn’t quite manage a smile for Caleb, but she did give him a quick nod. He visibly relaxed.

  When she looked at the detective, she caught a flicker of doubt in those steely eyes. Was he questioning his assumption that he had the killer in his sights? The flicker disappeared immediately, but the glimpse gave her the courage she needed to straighten her shoulders and face the man.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice choked on the words, and she drew another fortifying breath. “It’s the shock. I still can’t believe he’s gone.” She looked directly into the man’s eyes, willing him to see the truth. “I didn’t kill him, Detective. When I left that office he was alive.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he weighed her words. Though he didn’t accept or dispute her claim, at least he didn’t openly accuse her of lying. Not yet, anyway.

  “Why were you there at all? What was this meeting about?”

  “I wanted to assure him that I had nothing to do with Mr. Lewis’s death.”

  “You could have done that on the telephone.”

  She bowed her head, a
cknowledging the comment. That was only a small part of the reason she’d requested the meeting. Her gaze flicked toward Caleb. Should she tell Detective Samuels about the notes? Then the whole ugly story would emerge, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to make that public now. Maybe never.

  Caleb watched her for a long moment and then faced the detective. “I advised Darcie to contact Mr. Fairmont.”

  “We all did.” Lauren relaxed the tight hug, though her hand remained comfortingly on Darcie’s arm. “She had some questions that needed to be answered.”

  Samuels’s jaw tightened. “What kind of questions?”

  The truth would come out sooner or later. She might as well be as transparent as she could. Maybe the detective would believe her if he sensed that she was holding nothing back.

  “I wanted to ask Mr. Fairmont if he was my father.”

  Throughout the story, Darcie held the detective’s gaze steadily. She told him everything she’d told Caleb and his friends...well, almost everything. Though the words to describe the circumstances surrounding her mother’s pregnancy were on the tip of her tongue, she bit them back. What purpose would it do to go into the sordid details? Let him think Mama had a brief affair with Ryan Fairmont before he died. Mama was beyond caring.

  As she spoke, Samuels sat with his elbows planted on the chair’s arms, his steepled fingers tapping rhythmically against one another. When she had described as much of her conversation with her uncle as she could remember, his fingers stilled.

  “May I see the notes?”

  Darcie nodded, and Lauren released her to stand. “I’ll get them.”

  She left the room. In another part of the house came the faint sound of a door opening, and in the next minute Brent’s harsh whisper was audible.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there. Come back here.”

  Percy charged into the room. Brent, bent over with outstretched hands, was hot on his heels. The little dog ran straight to Darcie and with one giant leap, landed in her lap. He planted his paws on her legs, faced the detective and proceeded to fill the air with ferocious yaps that left no doubt he intended to protect her with teeth and claws if necessary.